


Living the Dream

by spiffymittens



Series: Figuring It Out [2]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Adoption, Canon Compliant, Canon Queer Relationship, Halloween, Kidfic, M/M, Married Life, a childfree fic?, except the opposite of a kidfic, rated T for swearing and sexual references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27301783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiffymittens/pseuds/spiffymittens
Summary: So yeah, I took the prompt and turned it into nearly 6,000 words about David and Patrick coming to a final decision about whether they want kids or not. I would say sorry, but I'm totally, shamelessly not.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Stevie Budd & David Rose
Series: Figuring It Out [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1999069
Comments: 59
Kudos: 166
Collections: Schitt's Creek Trick Or Treat





	Living the Dream

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SCTrickOrTreat](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCTrickOrTreat) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Patrick convinces David to participate in a community trick-or-treating event by turning the store into a haunted house. David and Patrick don't agree on haunted house aesthetics or activities.

“No way. I don’t want those little monsters running all over our store.”

“Well, there will be some little superheroes too. Please, David?”

“Absolutely not.” David pointed the ladle at his husband for emphasis, slopping a bit of chili on the floor. He frowned harder. “Ugh, where are the kitchen towels?” 

They’d barely unpacked the necessities since moving in the day before, but David had been enchanted with the idea of cooking the first dinner in their new home, so he’d made a quick trip to Brebner’s for chili supplies while Patrick dug out the new Le Creuset dutch oven his Aunt Marlene had given them.

“What’s wrong with the way we did it the last two years?” David said. The late afternoon sun licked his hair with flame as he searched through a box marked KITCHEN in Patrick’s messy scrawl. “Just sit in front of the store and give out candy, simple, done.”

“Because all the other businesses do a big thing, and we should too.” It sounded lame even to Patrick, but he pressed on. “Bob gives out individually wrapped cinnamon rolls, Ted lets kids pet puppies in costumes, Twyla has old-fashioned apple dunking in the cafe. We should do something in our store too. Just some spooky decor and activities; nothing crazy. It doesn’t have to be as involved as the other businesses.”

David, elbow-deep in a box, narrowed his eyes at Patrick. “I know exactly what you’re doing here; don’t think you’re being clever.”

Patrick attempted an innocent face. “Oh?” 

“You’re trying to get me all—” David stood up and waved his hands in circles, trying to snatch the words out of the air. “— _competitive_ about this so I’ll do it.”

“Why, is that not working?”

“Patrick. My husband. Love of my life. I do not want children in our store.” David finally found a towel and wiped up the chili, which gave Patrick a few seconds to recover from the sweet shiver he still felt whenever David called him his husband. 

“Come on, it won’t be so bad.”

“Oh no, it definitely will. Do you know why I don’t want children in our store?” said David, stirring in the tomato paste.

“Because one day your hunger for human flesh will overcome you?”

“Please, veal is unethical. No, because they’ll get their sticky little fingers all over our merchandise and you know it.” David gave the chili a decisive stir, put the gas on low, then turned to face Patrick.

Patrick leaned back against the counter, drumming his fingers against the drawers. “We can clean sticky fingerprints, David. But it’s not a big deal. We don’t have to do it.” He bottled up the disappointed sigh that wanted to come out. 

David crossed his arms and leaned against the fridge. “I think it is a big deal to you, though. I just… want to understand why you want all those kids in our store so badly.” His shoulders and face looked fragile, and Patrick suddenly understood why.

He crossed the kitchen and wound his arms around David’s waist. “Hey, I meant it when I said I didn’t want kids. I just think it sounds fun, and I bet the parents will buy more stuff, that’s all.” That wasn’t all, but Patrick would rather have rooted for the Orioles than admit it. 

David looped his arms over Patrick’s shoulders but didn’t go in for a hug. He looked at Patrick searchingly. “Are you sure? It’s just… you’re really good with kids. And you like kids, I know you do. You’re always volunteering to babysit Arlo.”

Patrick nodded soberly. “I do like kids, but I _really_ like giving them back. I mean, it’s great to play with Arlo for a few hours and be Fun Uncle Patrick once every couple weeks, but after Cameron and Sanjay take him home, then we get to drink wine, have loud sex, and sleep for eight uninterrupted hours. Trust me, I’m good.” 

David scrunched his eyes closed and tipped his head back as if he were literally swallowing his fears, then looked at Patrick again. “Okay, fine. We’ll do the community trick-or-treat thing. I’ll moodboard some ideas after dinner.”

Patrick leaned in to kiss his favorite spot on David’s neck. “Sounds like a plan. How long til dinner?

“The recipe says it needs at least two hours to let the flavors marry,” David said a little breathlessly. He tilted his head to the side, allowing Patrick better access. “Why do you ask?”

Patrick nudged the collar of David’s sweater aside with his nose and pressed a lingering kiss into the newly exposed skin. “I was thinking we could go upstairs and enjoy not having kids for a while.”

“You have the _best_ ideas,” David said as he pulled Patrick toward the stairs.

* * * * *

“Ohmygod, that is the _best idea!_ ” Sanjay squealed, waving his forkful of pancakes at David’s drawings. True to his word, David had stayed up late the night before, jotting ideas in his sketchbook. He hadn’t allowed Patrick to see any of them, saying his vision wasn’t ready to share yet.

But now, at their weekly Cafe Tropical breakfast with Cameron and Sanjay, David was apparently ready to share. He beamed at Sanjay, basking in the appreciation of another artistic soul. “Mmhmm, so I was thinking we can sew the screaming, bloody face masks onto some black cloth and attach it to one of those garden arches and put it just inside the door? That way it’ll set the mood for the horror to come.” David tapped his sketchbook, highlighting an impressively gruesome drawing. 

“Okay, yes, I’m loving this,” Sanjay said. “What comes next?” At the end of the table, Arlo seemed similarly enthused, slapping his hands joyfully on his highchair tray as David described a black fabric-draped tunnel with nothing in it to invite kids to contemplate the futility of existence.

“Then, I talked to Stevie, and she said she’d definitely maybe play the creepy fortune teller who tells all the kids _they’re going to die tonight_ ,” David said. Sanjay hummed approvingly as he cut up a plain pancake and added it to Arlo’s tray. “Cake!” announced Arlo. Patrick couldn’t help his slack-jawed expression; this was not at _all_ what he had in mind. Cameron gave Patrick a sympathetic sort of look.

Patrick was thankful for the silent support. For Cameron in general, really. They’d met at a Pride festival in Thornbridge just before the store opened and kept in touch over the years (mostly through a running text chain about baseball). It was nice having a queer friend who wasn’t David to give him perspective and answer his questions about what was normal and what was just internet nonsense. And Patrick was a little in love with the idea of having couple friends, too. It seemed like such a _married_ thing to have. 

So no one was happier than Patrick when Cameron had taken the third-grade teacher position at Schitt’s Creek Elementary a few months ago. They needed more room for their newly adopted son, Cameron explained, and with the cost of living so much cheaper in Schitt’s Creek, Sanjay could pull back on his freelance illustration gigs and stay home with Arlo. 

David liked Cameron well enough, was thrilled to meet a kindred spirit in Sanjay, and tolerated Arlo. Arlo was a much bigger fan of David, though, always fascinated with his mobile eyebrows and the flashing rings on his waving hands. Just then, in fact, Arlo was reaching for David’s flailing right hand, eyes intent, as David described the Leonard Cohen playlist. Cameron intercepted Arlo’s hand and winked at Patrick. 

Now David was describing the garland of bloody plastic fingers he wanted to string from the cash counter. “Don’t you think this is all a little… dark?” Patrick cut in finally. “These are little kids we’re talking about here.”

David looked at him blankly. “Patrick, you said you wanted to do spooky decor and activities; so that’s what I did.”

“Yeah, but I was thinking more of a family-friendly vibe?” Patrick said. Then he remembered: David hadn’t exactly had a traditional upbringing. The odds were not high that he’d experienced the sort of thing Patrick had in mind. Mercifully, Cameron stepped in.

“You have a real knack for designing a haunted house,” he said thoughtfully, tapping one slim finger on the drawing. “If we had an event for teens and adults at the town hall or something, this would be perfect.” David preened a little. 

Cameron turned to face David on the bench. “But small children might not be able to… fully appreciate your vision. They’re so easily frightened, is the thing,” he said, shrugging apologetically. 

David muttered something that sounded like “ _good_ ,” then yelped as Patrick kicked him under the table. “Ugh, fine, what would be more _family-friendly?_ ” he said, turning the sketchbook over while giving Patrick a dirty look. “Fam!” Arlo exclaimed. David gave him a helping of glare too. 

Patrick thought fast. “Maybe Sanjay could do face-painting?” Sanjay nodded gamely. “And we could have a coloring station with paper pumpkins? A table where they can put spooky stickers on a printed out Halloween scene?” Patrick tried to remember every Halloween party he’d been to in grade school, racking his brain for ideas. “Ummm. Maybe a table where they can make magic potions but it’s really just… I don’t know, colored water with glitter in plastic bottles?”

“Oh no, you do not want that,” Cameron cut in. “Trust me, kids and glitter don’t mix. But the other stuff sounds good. I saw a thing on Pinterest, a pin the hat on the witch game, that could be fun too.” 

David was nodding slowly, eyes closed. “Okay, okay, so we’re talking about kind of a retro aesthetic, like old-fashioned party games. I can work with that.” He gave Patrick a small smile.

“You could make anything look great, David,” Patrick said. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Arlo’s sticky little fist stretching towards David’s sketchbook again. Patrick reached out and snagged the tiny hand, grimacing at the disgusting film of breakfast food. Arlo squealed in delight and grasped his thumb. “Pat!” he said, smacking the tray with his other hand. “Pat! Pat! Pat!” 

Patrick couldn’t help the pleased grin that crept over his face. “Aw, he knows my name.”

“Duh, Arlo loves hanging out with Uncle Patrick and Uncle David while Daddy and Papa get date night,” Sanjay said. Cameron smiled softly at his husband and his son, the look of a man who has everything he ever wanted in front of him. Patrick looked back at Arlo, squeezed his small hand, and just for a moment, he could imagine it: him and David with their own little one, maybe a girl. He’d teach her to play guitar and save a third of her allowance, and David would braid her hair and fret about whether she had enough friends at school. 

He winked at Arlo and let go of his hand, accepting a wet wipe from Sanjay gratefully. It was a sweet fantasy, but he’d meant what he said to David: he was perfectly happy being Uncle Patrick. 

He turned to David, hoping to share a smile over Arlo’s attempt at his name, but David wasn’t smiling. David looked horrified, in fact. He swept his sketchbook into his bag and patted Cameron’s hip, a silent prompt to let him out of the booth. “Look at the time!” David said with forced enthusiasm, fiddling with the strap on his bag instead of meeting Patrick’s eyes. “Sweetheart, I’m going to run and get the store ready to open while you settle the check, okay? Thanks for the ideas, Cameron! Text you after Drag Race, Sanjay!” Then he was out the door without even bothering to put his coat on. 

Cameron sat back down and raised his eyebrows at Patrick. Sanjay went for the more direct approach: “Okay, what the hell was that?”

Patrick sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. “Just a misunderstanding. Or… an insecurity, I guess. David doesn’t want kids, and he’s worried I do.”

Sanjay hummed, picking a bit of egg out of Arlo’s hair. “ _Do_ you want kids?”

Patrick blew out a breath. “I’m neutral about the concept, I guess. I do like kids, but—and no offense here—they seem like kind of a pain in the ass.” Cameron nodded as Patrick continued picking through his words. He’d known from the beginning that David didn’t want children and rarely let himself even consider the topic. But he owed himself an honest accounting, apart from what David wanted. 

“I think I would have really enjoyed being a dad. But... not enough to mourn it, knowing it won’t happen.” Patrick said slowly. It was the most honest answer he had, but not one David was secure enough to hear yet. He shook his head and shrugged. “I’m truly fine with just borrowing your kid every so often, and I’ve said so to David. I think he’s just afraid I’m suffering in silence.”

Cameron tilted his head and pursed his lips. “Hmm, are you saying communication skills are historically a problem for you two? Because that seems unlikely.” Sanjay snorted and whacked his hand gently. Cameron grinned and captured Sanjay’s hand, squeezing it affectionately. 

“Sometimes I really regret confiding in you,” Patrick groused, but his heart wasn’t in it. He and David had become much better at communicating, but they still had miles to go and Patrick knew it.

“I guess I better go talk to David.” He pulled out his wallet and put enough money on the table to cover his half of the bill. “Same time next week?” Cameron nodded as Sanjay scooted out of the booth to let Patrick out.

“Bye, buddy!” Patrick told Arlo as he put his jacket on. Cameron reached out and lightly touched Patrick’s wrist as he turned to go. “Patrick? Don’t let this one sit. _Talk_ to him.” 

Patrick sighed. “Yeah, I’m gonna have to.”

Arlo banged an emphatic fist on the tray. “TALK!”

Patrick snorted out a laugh. “Okay, okay.”

* * * * *

The trouble was, Patrick had already talked to David about it. So when Patrick tried to bring it up again later that morning, David quickly assured him that it was already settled, it was fine, we’re fine, everything’s _fine_. 

It wasn’t fine, but Patrick couldn’t think of a way to reassure David. He tried not to take it personally, because some of David’s trust issues would take a long time to heal, no matter how much he loved Patrick. In the meantime, David was trying, and Patrick was glad to help him. 

So he did his best to show David how happy he was with their child-free life. He suggested turning the extra bedroom into a proper closet for David when funds allowed. He commented often about how much he loved relaxing on the couch with David in the evenings with a book and a beer. He got creative. 

“What on earth is this all about?” David panted about two weeks later. “Not that I’m complaining.” He squirmed a bit to get more comfortable on the couch, shimmying his pants back up.

“I thought it was pretty obvious what this was about?” Patrick sat up and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “You. Me. Me appreciating you.”

David raised his head just enough to glare at his husband, but he was still too wobbly to give it much heat. “I was talking more about the locations? _All_ the locations?

Shit. “Locations?” Patrick said, widening his eyes innocently. 

“Yes, Patrick, _locations_. The couch, the living room floor, the dining room table, the kitchen counter, the mudroom bench, even. We used to fuck on the bed. Remember the bed? The one with the huge mattress you said we paid too much for?”

“I have very fond memories of that mattress, yes.”

“Are you sure? Because for the past two weeks, we’ve been having sex everywhere _but_ the bed.”

Patrick pressed David back onto the couch and snuggled into the hollow of his shoulder. “Mmm, I can’t help it; you turn me on so much sometimes I can’t wait long enough to get you in the bed.” He paused a second and went in for the kill. “Good thing we don’t have kids so we can fuck wherever we want to.”

David snorted. “Oh my god, is that what this is about? I believe you already; can we please go back to fucking on the bed from now on?”

Patrick licked a slow line up his husband’s neck. “Okay, David.”

David groaned and melted into the pillows. “On the other hand, I could stand a little more convincing.” 

* * * * *

Slowly, David relaxed. He ordered crayons and stickers, printed out pumpkins, and let Patrick put up “a carefully curated selection of tasteful Halloween decor” (translation: more black crows and weird twigs). He even encouraged Cameron and Sanjay to bring Arlo over one Saturday so they could have a date night.

By Halloween, the issue seemed long-forgotten. At their normal closing time, David and Patrick scrambled to move their furniture out of the way and get the activity tables set up. At Alexis’s suggestion, they moved the candy bowl to the cash register to encourage more sales (“They’ll feel guilty just taking candy without buying anything, duh!” she’d said on their latest call). Then they rushed to the back to change into their costumes.

David had balked at the notion of dressing in costume, but finally agreed to something simple: black jeans, his leopard-print sweatshirt, and a cat-ear headband. He was just adding a nose and whiskers in black eyeliner when Patrick emerged from the bathroom. 

“You look gorgeous,” Patrick said, leaning in for a careful kiss.

“Ugh, I suppose,” said David. He looked Patrick up and down as he tossed the makeup mirror back into his bag. “You, on the other hand, look positively edible.” Patrick blushed, ducking his head. It was a running joke between them how much David liked ogling Patrick in his Cafe Tropical uniform, so Patrick had splurged on a Toronto Blue Jays uniform with his own last name on the back. From the look in David’s eyes, it was money well spent. 

“You think so?” he said, gravitating back into David’s arms. 

“Definitely VIP material,” David murmured, sliding his hands down to Patrick’s ass.

The front door bell rang out, and they sprang apart, tugging hastily at their clothes. It was Cameron, Sanjay, Arlo, and Stevie, all in costume and ready to help. Cameron was a Starfleet captain, Sanjay was sporting an afro wig and a Bob Ross costume, and Arlo…

“Oh my god,” Patrick breathed, pressing his palms to his cheeks. Arlo was wearing a Blue Jays uniform and hat, though the light-up Paw Patrol shoes somewhat marred the effect. “Oh my _god,_ ” he said again, sagging against David’s arm. “He’s a little Blue Jay, David. He’s a tiny little Blue Jay! That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever fucking _seen._ ”

“Fuck!” said Arlo agreeably. 

Cameron rolled his eyes. “Uncle Patrick is _such_ a good influence on you, Arlo!” he said brightly while mock-glaring at Patrick. He set Arlo down and adjusted his uniform top. “Alright, can one of you wrangle this little guy while I go set up the coloring station?” 

To Patrick’s surprise, David picked Arlo up and popped him on one hip. “Well, look at you in your little baseball costume!” he said, a small, but real, smile on his face. “Want to come help Uncle David with stickers?” Arlo held his plastic car aloft and crowed happily as David swept to the other side of the room.

Stevie, who was doing a better than passable Elvira, shot Patrick an incredulous look. “Did someone finally give me drugs in my Halloween candy, or did I just see David voluntarily pick up a toddler?

“I guess so,” said Patrick, blinking slowly.

Stevie looked speculatively at Patrick. “Hey, _you_ guys aren’t—”

“Absolutely not,” Patrick said. “We don’t want kids.” 

Stevie held up her hands in surrender. “Hey, I was just asking. You seemed pretty taken with the little guy.” 

Patrick suspected he was going to get tired of having this same conversation over the next few years. “I do like him. I love kids, but I don’t want to be a dad.”

“Hey, no arguments from me,” said Stevie. “Last time I babysat my cousin Bree’s kid, he poured mustard all over my pillow.”

Cameron soon got the coloring station set up and collected Arlo from David, and before long the first trick-or-treaters began trickling in. 

David manned the register, conveniently allowing him minimal contact with small children, while Stevie stood next to him and handed out candy. Meanwhile Patrick circulated the floor, ready to mop up spills, answer customer questions, and shiver in exaggerated fright at primary-school vampires in plastic capes. 

About an hour later, the store was packed and the register constantly ringing with sales. Patrick took a picture of David and Stevie and texted it to Alexis. “Great advice on the candy!” he wrote. Then he looked at the picture again, smiling softly. David and Stevie were leaning close together, laughing at something. David had a mini-Snickers in one hand and was waving the other hand expressively at something, golden rings gleaming in the suspended moment. 

“What’s got you looking so sappy there, Brewer?” Patrick looked up to see Cameron’s amused face. The crowd had begun thinning out, giving them a momentary respite. 

Patrick shrugged, a little embarrassed. “Nothing, really.” Cameron raised an eyebrow and waited, among his most infuriating and effective habits.

“Really, nothing big, just… you remember the day we met? I had such a huge crush on David I could barely function back then. And now we’re married and we have our own store and… sometimes I just can’t believe how lucky I got.”

Cameron laughed. “You guys are disgusting.”

“This, from the guy who actually bought the mouse pad package when Ray did your family portrait,” Patrick shot back.

“They were good pictures!” Cameron protested. Patrick raised his own eyebrow and finally Cameron cracked, grinning. “Okay, and also the volcano background makes Sanjay cringe.”

“There it is,” said Patrick. As the two men chuckled, the merchandise table to Patrick’s left began to wobble alarmingly. It was Arlo, up on his tiptoes, fingers almost touching a blue glass bottle of body milk. 

“Hey, whoa there,” said Patrick, swooping down to scoop him up. “Those aren’t for you, buddy. Where’s your car? Or—” he looked at Cameron. “Is it okay if I give him a piece of C-A-N-D-Y? I think we have some plain Hershey’s mini-bars.”

Cameron shrugged. “Oh, why not. I guess one piece won’t hurt him.” He held up a forefinger. “But just one, and you have to wipe off his face and hands afterwards.” 

“See, now that sounds like a dad kind of job,” said Patrick, sweeping away toward the cash register. “Uncles are for candy.” Arlo lit up at the word. “That’s right, Arlo, do you want Uncle Patrick to give you some candy? And then we’ll give you back to Daddy and Papa when you’re all gross and hyper?” 

David squawked as Patrick dug around the bowl for a Hershey’s mini-bar. “Hey, how come you get to be the cool uncle?” He fished out an extra Hershey’s bar and shoved it into Arlo’s hand. “That’s from Uncle David, okay? Because _Uncle David gives you candy._ ” He hesitated, then looked at Patrick. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take him over here to eat it so you don’t get any on your sweater,” Patrick said, mouth twitching.

“Oh thank god,” David said. “It’s just, this is my second-favorite Yves Saint Laurent sweater?”

Patrick shook his head, laughing, as he carried Arlo a few feet away and sat him on the edge of a table. 

He frowned, trying to think of a way to keep the mess to a minimum, then dug through the diaper bag for the biggest bib he could find. “Okay, here’s the deal,” he told Arlo as he unwrapped the first Hershey bar. “I’m gonna hold the chocolate, and you can take bites, okay?”

Arlo nodded solemnly and opened his mouth like a baby bird, eyes intent on the chocolate. 

“Now that’s the way to do it,” laughed a woman nearby. Patrick glanced over at her as Arlo took a careful bite of chocolate (and Patrick’s fingers). In his time at Rose Apothecary, he’d learned to size up customers as a salesperson, so he noticed several things right away: she was well-dressed, she had a basket half-full of products, and she seemed to be in an expansive sort of mood. 

All of that boded well for up-selling, so Patrick hummed and nodded, exclaimed over her daughter’s Hermione costume, and made small talk about some of the products in her basket while Arlo finished off the chocolate bar. By the time he was cleaning Arlo’s face and hands with a wet wipe, she had added a few more products to her basket. 

“Oh, and if you like the body milk, you’ve got to try the shea butter hand cream,” Patrick said. He pulled off the bib and put Arlo on his hip, leading the woman to the display table. “It’s all-natural and locally—” but her delighted squeal drowned out the next part of his pitch. 

“Oh my god, you _match_! Oh, how cute is that!” she breathed. “Like father, like son, huh?”

She bent down and cooed at Arlo. “Do you like baseball? Are you the biggest Blue Jays fan ever?”

“Ball!” Arlo affirmed. 

Patrick felt frozen to the spot. He opened his mouth to tell the woman that he was just Uncle Patrick, thank you, but then she started absently putting even more stuff in her basket while baby-talking with Arlo, so Patrick sort of just… smiled and let her, nodding away like an idiot. 

Finally, she took her overflowing basket to the register and heaved it onto the counter, still chattering away to Patrick and Arlo while David rang up the purchases and Stevie bagged them.

“Are you dressed just like your daddy? Are you gonna play baseball when you grow up?” she simpered at Arlo. “You are just the sweetest little thing!” She shook her head at David and Stevie, fond to the point of exasperation. “Couldn’t you just _die_ at how cute they are in their matching costumes?” she gushed.

If Patrick hadn’t known David so well, he wouldn’t have noticed the way he tensed up, how his warm, professional smile dimmed for an instant. “They sure are!” he said brightly. That’ll be $172.96. Will you be paying with cash, check or card tonight?” 

The woman and her daughter soon left, but David was still wearing that unnervingly professional smile. “Stevie, could you take over the register for a minute? I need a bathroom break.” Then, instead of heading to the bathroom, he walked straight out the front door. Patrick thrust Arlo back into Cameron’s arms and followed his husband.

The street was empty except for a few straggling trick-or-treaters, so Patrick looked around the side of the building. David was leaning against the brick wall, eyes closed tight. He didn’t open them when Patrick wordlessly adopted the same pose next to him. 

“Sorry, I just needed some air. It was a little too… peopley in there.” David’s breath plumed out in front of him as he sighed. 

Patrick found his hand and interlaced their fingers. David held on tight. “I didn’t tell that woman I was Arlo’s dad,” he said after a moment. “She just assumed and I didn’t correct her because she was buying a boatload of stuff.” 

“Okay,” David said quietly. “It’s fine. I sort of did the same thing with Rollie Jr. once.” Patrick wanted to hear the rest of _that_ story, but he knew David had more to say, so he waited. After a few minutes, David spoke again: “Patrick… we can have kids, if you want. I mean, not _just_ if you want. But I think I could want them, with you.” 

Patrick laughed breathlessly. “No you don’t,” he said finally.

David opened his eyes and turned to face Patrick. “I really could though,” he said. "I’ve been thinking about it a lot since that day you had dental surgery, and especially after seeing how good you are with Arlo. You really would be a great dad, and… it could be fun.”

Patrick put his arms around David’s waist. “You’d be a great dad too, David, but saying you _could_ want kids isn’t the same as _wanting_ kids. And honestly, I’ve been thinking about it a lot too. Up til pretty recently, I could have gone either way. Like, it would have been fine if it happened, and fine if it didn’t.”

He smoothed circles on David’s lower back, trying to think how to say what needed to be said. “But I could tell you were pretty freaked out about me and Arlo that one day, so I wanted to show you how happy I was without kids. But then it was like… instead, I showed myself how happy I was without kids. I really, really like getting to have you all to myself and not have to worry about childcare or breakables or stuff like that.” He grinned suddenly. “And, okay, maybe fucking all over the house at weird hours was a little… performative, or whatever, but I’m a big fan of getting to do that whenever we want to, too.” 

David smiled fleetingly, then sobered again. “You’re sure, then? You promise you’re not just, I don’t know, looking on the bright side while you put yourself last? Because I don’t ever want that for you. You could have stayed with Rachel and done that. I want you to have everything you want, Patrick.”

Patrick squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his chin to his chest. “God, David, you can’t—you can’t just say things like that,” he laughed wetly. He looked back up, into his husband’s dear, anxious eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. I know I have resting Little League face or something, but I swear to you, I’m fine without kids. You remember that day I met Cameron? At the PFLAG booth at the Thornbridge Pride Festival?”

David laughed. “Oh, yeah. The drag queens kept putting those plastic leis on you and I was...god, I was so jealous of Cameron. I thought you all were flirting and it was the first time I was jealous over you.”

“Mmm, without cause, of course, because I was already head over heels for you,” Patrick said, just to see David’s gratified smile. “Anyway, did I ever tell you what we were really talking about?”

“I thought it was baseball?”

Patrick shook his head. “Nope. Cameron was just covering for me. The thing is, I had a huge crush on you, but I was still so confused about whether I was gay or bi or—god, I don’t even know what. I was just a mess, is the point. But I talked to Cameron about it and he helped me figure out that I'm gay. He used some tool called a genderbread person; it has—”

“I know what the genderbread person is,” David interrupted. “Please continue.”

“Well, he asked me questions about gender identity, sexual attraction, you know, all that stuff. And I really thought hard about the answers because I wanted to be sure. So when he asked me about romantic attraction, I thought of how much I wanted to be near you and make you laugh. But I also thought about tonight.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow,” said David.

“I… hmm,” Patrick said. “I knew I was sexually attracted to you. But the night before that trip to Thornbridge, I fell asleep fantasizing about this—about some far-off future where we were married, and our store was open and thriving, and we were having a community trick-or-treat event,” Patrick said. “You were even wearing a cat costume, but with a black sweatshirt instead. That was the first time I had a romantic fantasy about you. Where I imagined what our lives could look like if we ever got together, and things worked out between us. That’s kind of why I pushed for us to do this tonight.”

“ _Oh_ ,” David said, arms tightening on Patrick. “I still don’t know what that has to do with kids, but god, that’s such a sweet thing to say.”

“I didn’t think it had anything to do with us having kids, at first,” said Patrick. “But I thought of it again that day we talked after my dental surgery, and I realized something important.”

“What’s that?”

“In my fantasy, the store was packed with kids of all ages, and _none of them were ours_.”

“Oh, that’s—” David said, breath hitching. “So you mean—”

“David, _you_ were the fantasy, not you and kids,” said Patrick. “Just you and our store, and a bunch of customers.” He smiled. “And maybe it would be fun to babysit some of the customers sometimes, but that’s all.” 

Some indefinable tension seemed to leak out of David all at once, his whole body sagging with the relief of it. “You really mean it,” he said. 

“Yeah.” Patrick drew David to him and kissed him, just because he could now, whenever he wanted to; because the Patrick who lay in bed and fantasized about David wearing his ring would have given anything to have this. “Come on, let’s get back to the party before Stevie starts stealing wine.”

They went back inside, hand in hand, and paused in the doorway. The crowd was starting to wind down, but the party was still going strong.

“Well, did the reality turn out anything like the fantasy?” David said in a voice that couldn’t quite make lighthearted. 

Patrick looked around at all the kids having fun and parents buying merchandise; at Stevie, a best friend and sister rolled into one, still manning the register in their thriving store; at Sanjay, helping Arlo paint a heart on Cameron’s cheek; at David, softer and kinder and more secure in Patrick’s love with every passing day.

“Better,” Patrick whispered. “It’s better.”


End file.
